


lost your mind in the sound

by contrails (ikanaru)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, KageHina Fight, M/M, Making Up, Mild Angst, as of s2 e5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikanaru/pseuds/contrails
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>well, the aftermath of a fire was never pretty.</p><p> </p><p>(the fight, and what happened next)</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost your mind in the sound

**Author's Note:**

> here, have some kagehina angst before i go watch the next episode ᕕ[ ・ ▾ ・ ]ᕗ
> 
> title from this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WmSPTkmBTA)

.

 

if hinata is the sun, then kageyama is a wild fire, fingers of flame licking thirstily at the ground, draining it dry of moisture, leaving nothing but a hot, burned-out mess behind.

the sun burns, and fire rages.

well, the aftermath of a fire was never pretty.

 

i.

 

hinata pedals home, alone, and tears trickle down the cold windowpane of his cheek.

he touches a hand to his bruised cheek, feels a similar ache echo somewhere deeper down inside.

 

 _i don’t want to talk to him._ kageyama snaps. his voice, low, livid, drifts from the other side of the gym to rest, heavy and guilt-ridden, at hinata’s side. the harsh line of kageyama’s spine refuse to soften, even when daichi pats him gently on the back.

 _well,_ says suga, coming to sit next to him, bringing a calm to hinata’s tumbling thoughts that only suga seems to possess. _looks like i’ll be tossing to you today._

 _good,_ hinata says back, standing and scooping the ball back into his hands, _not like i wanted to practice with stupid kageyama anyways,_ but he can’t resist another glance backwards at kageyama, standing corner court, rigid and still.

suga’s smile dims a little before it’s back to one hundred percent brightness. _of course you didn’t._

 

hinata has a dream.

it starts like this: a court, blazing beams of light stretched across the ceiling, the squeak of shoes and the smell of salonpas, and a high net in front of him.

it ends like this: running after kageyama, grabbing the back of his shirt, kageyama prying him off and saying, his fingers cold and his voice colder, _i only toss to those who are essential to winning_ -

and hinata wakes up.

 

 _you promised you would go to the top with me,_ he thinks, feeling the rough of the band-aid underneath his finger, _so where are you now?_

 

 

ii.

 

kageyama stares at hinata’s back and sees his old teammates. he remembers rejection, the heavy and cold and familiar feeling of it seeping and pooling at the bottom of his stomach.

 

his usual nightmare goes something like this: a ball thumps silently on the wrong side of the court, a whistle is blown, and the ground cracks open beneath his feet. his teammates, smoke and ash and cracked glass, hiss at him as he falls.

lately, there’s been another player in his dream, smoke curled up into tufts of unruly hair, footsteps light and fast, the dash of a familiar silhouette behind him. but then kageyama falls and the footsteps are gone, replaced by the back of a jersey and a deadening silence pressing around him.

when kageyama wakes up, he wonders at how his gasps sound a lot like sobs.

 

hinata grabs sugawara for practice and doesn’t give kageyama so much as a backwards glance.

 _that’s fine,_ thinks kageyama, and he goes to toss for asahi.

it feels strange, having to adjust to a different spiker’s pace. there are times when his tosses are too low or too fast, because he’s been looking down for a blur of orange and a loud call _i’m here, i'm here_ right where he’s supposed to be.

 _kageyama,_ asahi says to him during their break. kageyama swallows his mouthful of water, wipes the remainder on his sweat-stained sleeve, and turns to asahi. _i think you should make up with hinata._

kageyama glances, a knee-jerk reaction, in hinata's direction. _why?_

tanaka, walking by, stops and snorts into raucous laughter. _why?_ he repeats incredulously, claps kageyama on the shoulder, once. beside him, asahi’s nodding and smiling in that timid way of his, and tanaka says, _because you never toss to us the way you toss to him_.

 

kageyama thinks about how the ball goes from his fingertips to hinata’s open palm, straight from point a to b in a split second of pushed air, remembers the buzzing at the nerve-ends in his hands.

and he wonders at how quickly he lost it.

 

 _i’m here, i’m here_ , you said, but now you’re not.

 

 

iii.

 

the room’s lit up with the blue glow from his phone. hinata’s fingers hover over kageyama’s name.

 _for a genius, kageyama's pretty stupid_. he grumbles and sinks his head deeper into the sheets. _idiot kageyama_ , he repeats. it feels good to say out loud.

the characters of kageyama's name are harsh against the white of a new message waiting to be sent. the cursor blinks back, unassuming.

 

 _you and hinata still aren't talking,_ suga says to him after practice one day.

 _no._  kageyama scowls into his meat bun, his chin beaded with condensation. _that guy's way too stubborn._

suga hums thoughtfully, popping the tab on his cherry soda. _trust goes both ways, kageyama_. _if hinata trusts you to give him the best, you should believe the same, right?_

 

 

i'll show you how much better i can be, hinata thinks, wrapping tape around his fingers and smacking himself back into action.

 

kageyama glares down the precise line of water bottles.  _one more_ , he says, and listens for the sound of a bottle tipping over.

 

_when we return, we will be stronger—together_

 

 

iv.

 

but since they’re hinata and kageyama, they were never meant to be apart for long.

 

it begins like this: hinata and kageyama, practicing on opposite sides of the gym, the five a.m. air stiff and heavy around them.

 _did you figure it out yet?_ comes kageyama’s voice, ringing loud in the silence, interrupted by the surprised thump of a ball on the floor.

 _i think i did,_ says hinata after a beat. _what about you?_

the apology doesn't happen. kageyama takes one look at hinata’s face, flashes back to the match against seijoh, and clinks his teeth shut against the words.

 _do you want a toss?_ he says instead, holding out the ball like a peace offering.

hinata misses the first one, and the next one, and the one after that. just as the sun peeks over the brightening horizon, there’s a whoosh of air and the sound of impact, of a hand smacking on leather.

the ball slams onto the other side of the court, dead centre, and hinata’s eyes are wide open.

 

it ends like this: fire and sun may smolder and blaze, burn and rage, but in the end, shine brighter together.

**Author's Note:**

> the best way to overcome writer's block is to write kagehina angst, am i right


End file.
